


Sweat

by Liquid_Molasses



Category: Batgirl (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-05
Updated: 2008-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-10 08:31:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1157430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liquid_Molasses/pseuds/Liquid_Molasses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a night of fighting crime, Batgirl sees unusual signals in Spoiler's body language.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> Old story from my never-used livejournal. Written Jan/Feb 2008.

It's incredible how much a punch can tell you about a person. The stance they use, which fist they ball up first, whether they look at their opponent, away, or through him. Their skill as a fighter, their experience, and sometimes even their personality are laid bare even before they've full committed to the attack. At least, that's how it is with a skilled martial artist. Someone of her caliber. Someone like Batgirl.

Me, not so much. I can tell you a few things about body language, sure, most of which I picked up from Cass. She's my best friend, after all. But she sees differently. Movements, even slight, involuntary ones, are as illuminating to her eye as an illustration of an ancient manuscript. A gesture is worth a thousand words.

The thugs in front of us are making some gestures. You don't have to be fluent in body language to know what they all mean. These guys are small timers—bit players in one of Rupert Thorne's big schemes. The way we came down from our pearch on the rooftop above, I landed near two skinny-looking guys with chains. Cass landed near four brutes, one of whom definitely has a gun.

It can't be a coincidence. Cass did it to protect me. She's better and she knows it. I know it too, so I'm not going to complain. One of the guys with chains is already coming after me, so I lunge at him, my purple cloak crackling behind me, the sound of inertia's protest. The chain passes over my shoulder and I clock him in the head with my fist and knee him in the gut for good measure.. I hear the foot of the other guy stomp the asphalt hard, so I turn. The chain flashes in the dim light and I bring up both hands to block. Metal links slam into my gloves—they cushion the blow but pain still resonates through my arms. And the chain's not done yet. It wraps around my guard like Indiana Jones whip.

He pulls the chain towards him, so I oblige him—and help out a bit. He won't mind if I use his own momentum to smash both fists into his face. He wasn't expecting that, and he shouts some profanities at me and calls me a slut. I just land on him and wail on him till he's unconscious. Then I unwrap the chains.

The other guy behind me has already taken off. He'll probably tell Thorne what's going on, so I grab a batarang from my belt and toss it at him, just like Tim taught me. It satisfies me more than I can tell you when it slams into his lower back and he falls on his face.

My heart is pounding by this time, but it's a good feeling. I've worked up a sweat, but just barely. I finally realize that while I was dealing with dumb and dumber that I heard at least two gunshots go off, so I turn to see how Cass is doing.

And suddenly I'm in awe. Cass is airborne, her limbs and body moving in such harmony that I can predict what's going to happen when she lands. But the thugs either can't see, or can't do anything about it. The last two of them try to take swings at her, but she dives and rolls out of the way, and the one closest to her falls. She attacked him! I didn't even see the movement.

The last one snarls some more unkind names at her, and I run forward, grabbing my staff to help out.

But Batgirl just launches herself off a wall and slams into the man, knocking him back. She's airborne again, and lands in a way that seams almost poetic, her cape slowly falling and draping over her shoulders.

The man staggers to his feet, but finds one of his femur is broken or bruised. He cries out in pain as he tumbles back to the ground.

The fight is over, and Cass turns to me.

“Call the police,” she says. I blink behind my mask, not sure of what to do for a moment. I'm lost in fantasies—fantasies as being as good as she is. Finally I process what she said, and drop one of the bat-shaped signal beacons Batman started using when GPS became commonplace. The thugs will soon be in police custody—and the sun will come up soon.

“We need to get some rest,” I say to Cass, and she nods.

By the time the cops arrive, Spoiler and Batgirl are long gone.

****

We reached Cass's apartment by dawn, but I wasn't tired yet. For some reason I felt as though I could taken on the whole world. Instead, I slumped into a chair and stared at the ceiling. It was adrenaline, talking. I didn't actually have all that energy I thought I did. Just excitement.

Though excitement from what, I wasn't quite sure. I'd been in hundreds of battles like that one, some of them a lot more dangerous. I watched Cass peel off cape and cowl, her gloves and boots, all sticky on the inside from sweat. I smiled slightly. I guess it felt good to know that despite being practically super-human in skill, Cass still broke a sweat fighting a bunch of thugs.

I stood and unfastened my own cloak, and peeled off the mask, running my fingers through my cowl hair. Eugh. I needed a shower. A very long one. Gloves and boots went next, but by the time I got rid of my belt and harness, the adrenaline was wearing off, and I slumped back into a chair in just my purple cat suit.

My eyes kept turning to Cass. Without her mask, she looked so normal now, her skin betraying little of her Caucasian side—only her unknown mother's Asian side seemed to be showing up. She vanished into the kitchen, and I heard some cabinets and the fridge open and shut, and she came back with two glasses of orange juice.

“Probably not good to drink juice until we cool down,” I said. She looked at me oddly and took a sip. I shrugged and drank the juice. Cass kept looking at me weirdly every time I took a sip, and since I knew she was reading me—not just wondering—it kind of confused me. I wasn't really aware I was giving off any signals, or at least what signals.

Cass vanished from the room again, this time towards her bedroom, and when she came out, she was stark naked. This actually wasn't unusual, as Cass had a habit of not dressing until she needed to. I sort of shrugged it off—by this time I was almost used to it. Though those scars I never got used to—the ones that criss crossed her chest and belly and striped her arms—some relics from her career as Batman's sidekick, but most caused by her father's cruel training. It always hurt me to see them, especially on such an otherwise perfect body.

I always envied and admired Cass's physique, to be honest. Her muscles were stark and defined but not bulky and inelegant.My eyes followed the scars to her breasts, firm and round—surprisingly large considering how much of Cassandra's body was muscle. For some reason I stared at them, as if seeing her naked for the first time.

(It wasn't of course. Cass had disrobed in front of us, the 'Bat-Clan' a dozen times. Cass had seen me naked too, when Tim had once hacked the JLA teleporter and we all went skinny dipping in a lagoon on some distant uncharted island.)

Even so, what Cass did next was a shock to the system.The odd look on her face, the whole time, Cass came forward and put one knee down on my chair, then the other, her chest and the scars across it suddenly filling my vision. I leaned away from her, my heart rate flaring up and my eyes widening. I started to ask her what she was doing, but as I opened my mouth, I felt hers press against my lips. My heart fluttered again, and I gasped into her mouth.

I pushed her away and stood up with a shiver, putting my hand to my mouth. I could still taste her lip gloss.

“Cass!” I stammered. “W-what are you doing?”

Cass's own eyes were now more confused than ever, and she took a step back, fast enough that her breasts bounced slightly. For some reason this made me blush harder. (And by this point, I must have been beet red.)

“I was doing what you wanted me to,” she said. “You wanted me to kiss you.”

“What? No I didn't!” I shouted, but brought my hand back up to my mouth. My fingers were cold against my lips. Did I? I thought.No, that would be silly. I why would I want Cass to kiss me?

“I... read you,” Cass said, bowing her head as if in apology. I stared at the top of her head and slumped into my chair.

“You read me,” I repeated. “You read my body language and it said I wanted you to kiss me. Cass, why would I want that? You're, you know, a girl!”

Cass shrugged. “There are girls who kiss girls.”

“We're not those girls,” I said lamely—really whispered is a better word. I felt my blush starting to vanish, my heart returning to normal. But something was replacing it quickly—a combination of curiosity and... desire.

Cass took a step closer. “You still want it,” she said, her voice more curious than anything. I shook my head, but she nodded, and I knew I was lying. She stepped closer again, and a familiar odor wafted around me, Cass's perfume and sweat mingled together. I shivered again, and took a deep breath.

I wanted to lose myself in that smell.

I wrapped Cass in a hug and held her tight, and if she could even read, me, I must have been sending mixed signals; I wanted her to hug me back, but all she did was hold her hands out at her sides, trying not to touch me. I started to sob like a little girl on her shoulder, and finally she wrapped her arms around me. And I breathed, and the smell came again, washing over me.

I pressed my lips to Cass's shoulder and kissed it, then again on her collar bone and again on her neck. She held me tighter and kissed the top of my head. I looked up into her eyes; she was smiling. I found that so strange, but then she kissed me again. I returned it this time, savoring the taste of her mouth in mine. I felt her nibbling on my tongue and my heart began racing wildly again; my hands ran down her back, my finger tips dipping in and out of every scar, tracing one that ran from above her kidney all the way down her right cheek and around the thigh.

I felt her hands move up to the zipper on my costume, heard the zipper slide down, and felt the cool air of the apartment slam into my hot back, the perspiration that accumulated in my costume starting to evaporate immediately. I stepped back and let her peel the costume off over my shoulders, and then down around my waist and knees. I stepped out and stood in front of her in nothing but my bra and panties—both of the sports variety, of course. I no longer felt cold, though.

 

Cass's hands ran up my body, and I wanted her to touch me everywhere. (Yeah, yeah, bizarre, cliche, I know. Whatever, that's how I felt!)

Her hands came up and finally rested on my shoulders, and she peeled the straps off my shoulders, lowering my bra. I felt one breast fall out, then the other, and Cass smiled. It suddenly hit me that she wanted it as much as I did. She was just waiting on me to want it too.

How long? I wondered. Then Cass pressed her face against my chest and it no longer mattered. She inhaled, and I winced, knowing I must have wreaked from the fight. Cass didn't seem to notice, or care; she just brought her hands to my breasts and rubbed them, her fingers passing over my areolae. The sensation shot through my body like the pain of getting shot.

But this time it wasn't pain.

Cass kissed my sternum, then again on my neck, letting her tongue linger, licking a small pool of evaporating sweat from my skin.

“Mmm” she said, though I wasn't sure if that was and mmm of “Mmm, that's... interesting” or an MMmmmm in the Campbell's soup tradition. She kissed me again on the chin, and then we were mouth-to-mouth again, tongues touching, tracing each others teeth. Yum.

I couldn't get enough of her scent! I pulled her closer to me, and she gasped in surprise as I broke off the kiss and began running my tongue down the side of her neck. Her skin was salty with sweat, but I didn't care—maybe I even liked it, to some degree.

I know I did. I kissed her again on the breast, my tongue tracing one of her scars, and found a nipple. I savored it, though it tasted little different than the rest of her skin, playing with the nib with my tongue and biting it lightly with my teeth. She moaned, and I knew this time it was definitely a good moan.

“We should go,” she said, shivering slightly, “to the bed room.”

We went, and I fell down on the bed first. Cass fell on me. She was so warm I squealed in delight, the twinges of pleasure already overriding my better judgment. We were kissing fiercely now, her tongue and mine exploring each others mouths. It was like a trip through the depths of the Batcave—except it was warmer and... Oh! It tasted better. My hands ran down Cass's side and I felt them trace a scar and then squeeze the cheeks of her butt. It was firm and muscular—everything mine wasn't. Cass exhaled in pleasure, though, and I continued to rub, kneading the flesh in time.

The smell came back to the forefront of my senses. I felt her sweat rub off on me and mine rub on her, and I sighed. Cass pulled herself forward, smiling at me with those beautiful green eyes. I guess I smiled back, and I felt Cass's hand leave my shoulders, travel down and rub my breast.

Then it went lower, all the way down my abdomen. I almost squealed in half-hearted protest when I realized what she was doing. Then I felt it, her hand slipping between my legs, her fingers rubbing against my clitoris, a slow semicircular motion.Waves of pleasure shot up my spine and my hips arched involuntarily. I gasped, breathing in more of that smell. Tasting it.

“Cass!” I whispered. "Keep it up, don't quit."

She didn't—she had no intention of stopping, rubbing harder and sending me into euphoria. I clenched my teeth and felt her fingers enter inside me, felt her other hand come down and massage my left breast. I cried out again, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her close. She kept rubbing, pushing, doing... something. I wasn't sure what. But I liked it.

Then she stopped, but I hadn't climaxed yet, I'd not had an orgasm. So close, though. I breathed in again, her smell, leaning forward and kissing her on the shoulder. I felt her push me back, and she brought her left hand up and pushed me down onto the bed.

I looked up at her confused. She just smiled. “I know what I'm doing,” she said. Leaning down, the golden skin on Cass's face and her lips merged with my upper chest, and she began moving down, finding my breasts with her tongue. It tickled, warm and moist on my skin. She kissed a nipple, running her tongue around it. It felt so good I wanted to scream. She must have known, because she kept going, moving from one to the other. I moaned, told her not to stop.

She must have taken my meaning the wrong way, because she moved her head down, kissing my belly and running her tongue through my navel, dragging her chin along my body. I saw my pubic hair, almost dark compared to the hair on my head, and I saw her chin rub against it, her lips and tongue drag across it. It vanished into the warmth of her mouth, and then reappeared.

But her tongue kept going, further 'south', and I felt it slide along my clitoris. I gasped, and her tongue came into me, moving about like a professional, even though I was certain Cass had never done this before. Hell, what did I know? I had never done this before. Perhaps the newness made it easy. I felt my body change, warm up, and my clitoris erect. Cass kept doing what she was doing, and I felt something flow out of me, her tongue drawing it out of me like water from a well. Huh... Maybe that's not a good metaphor.

My body arched up involuntarily again, and I felt myself tremble, felt myself let go. The flow came, the rush intensified, and I lay back breathing as I felt Cass continue her job, 'cleaning' up what I had just given her. I tightened my legs around her head, felt the warmth of her face on the inside of my thighs. I felt tired, but I couldn't go to sleep yet--

Cause Cass looked up at me and smiled, wiping her mouth. “Your turn,” she said.

I wasted no time, because by this point, I wanted nothing more, even sleep. I lunged forward, knocking Cass from the bed and following her to the floor. Her skin was warm to my touch and my tongue tasted her skin, her sweat again as I traced scars on her neck. I felt her reading me now, I could see her looking into my thoughts. She shifted, knowing what I wanted to do before I did it. My hands found her perfectly round breasts and I massaged them, kissed them. I wanted her more than anything, her smell, and now her taste.

“Cass, you sure?” I asked already knowing the answer. She nodded, and I fell forward, my tongue bathing her chest, tracing the scars as I saw fit. I flicked her nipples with my tongue and then traced another scar down to her navel, exploring it to see what was inside.

I felt my chin scrap against her pubic hair, and I didn't hesitate, finding her pleasure center with my mouth and kissing it, massaging it with my tongue. It moistened immediatley, and her clitoris began to move. My tongue found her opening and went in, massaging what I could find. I kissed her again, and wrapped my hands around her thighs, sliding them up onto her hips as I pulled her towards me. K kissed her again, and I felt Cass arch her back and I heard her cry out. She came, the fluids running out and onto my tongue, tastes I'm not quite sure how to describe. I could say it was like honey, but that would just be a metaphor. (And again probably not a good one.)

Nevertheless, I received Cass's gift and thanked her with more strokes of my tongue.

Cass cried out again, and I rested my head against her loins, the remainder of her orgasm running warmly down my face. I didn't care now. My desire was exhausted, and so was my body. I fell asleep.

****

As I awake sometime later, I realize I'm no longer lying on the floor. I'm in bed. Cass's bed. I fell her weight pressing against the right side of my body. We're still naked, both of us. Good. It feels good. I can move my right arm enough and do so, running my fingers down one of her arms. The scent is gone. I know it's not really gone of course. Tim or Batman would tell me that it's just my brain adjusting to it so that I don't notice it, the same way we block out the noise of Gotham taxis honking their horns when we try to go to sleep at night. (Those of us that live in the city, at least.)

And then it occurs to me to wonder what I am now. I'm only human, and I doubt myself. Stephanie Brown: lesbian. It doesn't sound right to me. I think—force myself to think—outside this room, to all the other people of the world. I think of women I know to be beautiful, those I envy. Wonder Woman comes to mind. Wonder Girl, for that matter. Jessica Alba.

And I feel nothing. Not even a twinge of sexual attraction. Not that I'd be that shallow to want only sex...

Would I?

I think to the men in my life. Dad's dead; Batman still creeps me out, so I turn to my ex-boyfriend Dean and what we shared. And I feel sick at my stomach. Bad decision. Thinking about the guy who got me pregnant at sixteen and then abandoned me when the Earthquake hit probably wasn't the best litmus test. I stroke Cass's arm again even as my thoughts turn to Tim. Tim's smile flashes through my mind, his confidence... the way he looks in without his shirt on.

The fact that as long as we've known each other he's never taken offense when I call him the 'Boy Virgin'. And I feel something for him, something deep. Romantic. I can see myself in the future settling down with him, starting a family. Maybe. Maybe I don't want that. Maybe he doesn't. But I can see it happening, unless of course the unthinkable happens to either of us in between now and some vague then.

So what am I? Bisexual? Straight? None of the above?

Then I feel Cass move, her leg coming up and wrapping across my body. I feel her wetness rub against my hip under the warm covers, and she looks up with me at a murmur. Did she read the questions? Is there even body language to express what I've been thinking?

She looks at me with a puzzled look on her face—and with worry, something I rarely see in Cass. And then she asks me: “What does... this make us?”

And I feel my guts twist into a knot, because she's thinking us. I was thinking just about me, and I feel selfish. But I try not to let her see. If anyone can see, she can.

“We....?” I stammer, trying to come up with an answer. “I guess we're friends...” I finally say lamely. And I think for a moment about what we just did, and finally add: “with benefits.”

Cass smiles. It's acceptable to her, in her own bizarre way of relating, I guess. I don't know if it's acceptable to me yet, or even if we'll ever do this again. But at least with Cass, I'm not afraid of finding out.


End file.
